In any event, this man is blind and he calls out to Jesus for help. Loudly it would seem – “Jesus, Son of David, have pity on me!” Like any good citizen, those around him told him to shush! Be quiet, they said. I think that it is pretty easy to imagine this scene… it is for me anyway. The nice respectable people are there to see Jesus. They certainly don’t need someone drawing attention their way, especially when that person is a blind man, who at that point would have been viewed as a sinner of some sort.
As usual, Jesus turns the tables and who does he address? The blind man. The blind man need Jesus. And Jesus responds to him. This makes me think about all my own posturing so that I can show up as a good girl. Really I am blind and need Jesus. Yet it is hard to sit there, aware that you are “un-seeing” and just cry for help. That cry comes from a place of hope and faith – the man must believe that Jesus can do something.
I think about how little faith I have and constantly pester Jesus in my quiet prayers, but I think I am a little too prideful and appropriate to out myself as blind and needy. That’s what this Gospel reminds me of – it is only in blindness and need, it is only in humility, that we can freely encounter Christ as he is meant to be encountered… In total faith.
My cries come often, but more in the form of a clear request. Not Bartimaeus… “Jesus, Son of David, have pity on me!” Would I ever say, please pity me? It is antithetical to everything I know in all of my defendedness!
Will I ever learn how to do this? What do you think? Do you find it hard to cry out?
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